Whispers, Silence and Song
by TeaOli
Summary: After a mission goes wrong, Kirk, McCoy, Spock and Uhura have reason to re-examine the nature of their relationships. Complete.
1. Whispers

**Whispers**

Lieutenant Uhura, Chief Communications Officer on Starfleet's flagship, the _USS Enterprise_, knows that she's led a charmed life. In many ways, she has been the beneficiary of Chance's more benevolent aspect: Luck, or Good Fortune.

She is lucky to hold the position she does.

A chance interest in the Romulan tongue led her to master all three of its primary dialects when learning one or none would have been sufficient to her training as an Academy cadet. Her proficiency in a language she'd never been encouraged — nor _dis_couraged — to learn is what made the Enterprise's former captain temporarily assign her to the bridge of that ship.

A chance mention — to her completely disinterested former roommate — of an intercepted Klingon distress call overheard (_by __chance_) by the ship's current captain brought her to the attention of Captain Pike in the first place.

That she was on the ship at all was pure chance. She knew she was taking a risk when she pressed her lover — who also happened to be the flagship's First Officer — to assign her to the ship she felt she deserved. He could have just as easily have refused her, despite the logic of her argument.

She knows that she's lucky to be on the Enterprise rather than floating through the cosmos, a collection of atoms that once made up the being called Nyota Uhura, killed while serving on the _USS Farragut_.

She realizes that her corroboration of the destroyed Klingon squadron helped set in motion the series of events which led to her lover and the man who is now her captain to save what was left of the Federation. She is still devastated when she thinks of the loss of Spock's mother and homeworld, but knows that, on the whole, they were fortunate. Nero's irrational need for revenge could have brought about far more destruction.

Still, she hasn't felt lucky since, a quarter of the way through their third day on Mondovi VII, she realized, for the first time perhaps, that not even Spock had used up his lifetime quota of arbitrary tragedy.

.

.

She is not, and never was, a fan of the Bard of Avon. She abhors the characterization and treatment of women in his plays and doesn't subscribe to the notion that he was the Elizabethan equivalent of a feminist.

So, more than two days went by before she could lay a finger on what was amiss with the men who'd beamed down to Mondovi with her. When Spock's eyes began tracking her whenever she was in the company of McCoy, she dismissed it as concern about the mission. Kirk's self-satisfied smile was harder to distinguish from his usual expression. She found the doctor's casual flirtation was equally unexceptional.

Until she overheard the captain's murmured, "Careful, Commander. Jealousy is a bitch. If you _know_ she's giving it to someone else, and you don't really give a shit, then you're golden. It's when you're not sure, but you love her anyway — that's when it gets you."

At first, the whispered words brought nothing beyond confusion and an unfocused anger — directed at Spock for possibly doubting her devotion, or perhaps at Kirk for implying that was the case, she wasn't sure who — but soon enough, she remembered the reluctantly read words of an angry soldier, passed over for a coveted lieutenancy:

_O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;  
It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock  
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss,  
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger:  
But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o'er  
Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!_

.

.

During the nights she spends alone in the quarters she had all but abandoned before the mission on Mondovi VII, Nyota Uhura doesn't bask in the warmth of Good Fortune's smile.

She doesn't feel lucky when dreams carry back their terrible offering: the rage written across Spock's face when he came for her. When whispers and half-rumors overcame logic and trust. She wonders about Chance when she remembers being afraid, for the first time, of her lover's inhuman strength and passion.

Often she wakes shaking, then forces herself to relive the accidental mind touch — Spock's fingers slipping across her meld points while his other hand closed around her throat. Calling out — her mind to his in that instant of contact — had been instinctual. She still doesn't know why he let himself be pulled deeper into her essence. Perhaps Chance was proving it had not completely abandoned her, although her throat bore hand-shaped bruises until one of McCoy's staff repaired the damage.

Uhura always halts the memory before Spock's face crumples in devastation and fear and shame. She never purposely recalls the way his body was wracked with the sobs he wouldn't accent with actual tears. Neither does she allow herself to hear his broken voice declaring his remorse. She tries to forget that he did not ask for her forgiveness.

In the beginning, she protested, fought him. "That.. _creature_ tried to make all of you believe, but you saw the truth in time. " He knew better, of course. Just as she did. Only the chance brush of his hand had saved them.

She trusted his logic to change his mind.

"Is there offense where none was intended? Is there a crime where there was no will?"

She coaxed and cajoled — even tried tempting him. Eventually, pleading and begging lost the tarnish of shame.

But even now he believes in the monster Cinzio created and refuses to see himself through her more generous eyes.

Hope manifests itself as patience and has become her only comfort. Whenever she wakes, she reminds the mirror that Nyota Uhura is a lucky woman. Fate — temperamental Chance's reflection — believes in her, although she does not believe in any of its faces.

She cannot escape the consequences of Spock's fear, but she continues to smile, as if her world is whole. She pretends even when Kirk or McCoy comes to her quarters. "All right, Uhura?" or "Just checkin' on you, sug" is met with lies.

She doesn't sing while she waits for him, and she doesn't notice others noticing.

* * *

**A/N**: "Silence," the second chapter of this story, was originally written for a Ship Wars prompt "Ain't No Sunshine."

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek characters or concepts. Nor do I hold the rights to William Shakespeare's body of work.


	2. Silence

**Silence**

Without Nyota Uhura's presence, Spock's quarters are as soundless as any place on a starship can come to true silence. The faint rasp of his own measured breathing mingles with the ambient hum of the Enterprise's various operations as the ship passes through the endless expanse, bending time and space to hurtle its passengers towards their destination. Above all is the beat of his heart.

Since time immemorial, humans have connected the emotion called _love_ to the fist-sized organ situated between the lungs, and somewhat left of the center in an average human's thoracic cavity.

Although ultimately inconclusive, history suggests that this idea may have originated in the ancient Egyptian concept of the _Ib_, which was not only considered to be the most important of the five parts of the human soul, but also was also believed to be the center of thought and emotion.

There is no correlation for Ib in a Vulcan katra, yet Spock knows without a doubt that he loves Nyota Uhura with "all of his heart."

.

…_one that loved not wisely, but too well._

…_not easily jealous, but being wrought,_

_Perplexed in the extreme_.

.

He noted her beauty the first time he saw her, but he had seen many beautiful women, so the symmetry of her features had not stirred him to hold her above any of the others.

Upon meeting her, he was pleased to find she possessed an uncommon intellect. Still, genius was common enough on the San Francisco campus that she had not stood out from the double handful of other exceptional cadets simply because she was more intelligent than the average human woman was expected to be.

In the end, it was her capacity for exhibiting acceptance that made him first love her. She has never asked him to be human or Vulcan or anything other than Spock.

Even now, Nyota continues her efforts to be accepting of the changes wrought by their experiences with the being who called itself Cinzio. Spock has long been aware of her conclusions regarding William Shakespeare's portrayal of women; he is convinced that the being was similarly dismissive of the female mind and moral code. That, he wrote in his official report, is likely Cinzio did not attempt to influence her perceptions.

In spite of the tightly controlled body language she displays in public, he reads her well enough to realize her displeasure now borders on distress. Nevertheless, she has not pressed him to reverse his decision.

Logic would say it has no bearing on their current circumstances, but he remains unsure whether her continued reticence is indicative of the weakness or of the strength of her love for him.

The door chimes before he can further examine the conundrum.

.

.

The senior medical officer occupies one of the only two chairs in the cabin. Spock stands, hands clasped behind his back, exhibiting an ease he does not feel while he waits for the man to speak.

"We got to talk about what happened down there," Leonard McCoy tells him, his face showing an uncharacteristic sympathy, but his slip into the dialectal speech patterns indigenous to the American South suggest that he is agitated. "Jim ain't Iago, you ain't Othello, I ain't that damned fool Cassio and Uhura a helluva lot stronger than Desdemona."

"I submitted my report to the captain two weeks ago," Spock says. He knows the doctor will not be satisfied with that answer, and is proven right when the man's lips thin and his brow furrows.

McCoy inhales deeply then slowly exhales. Some of the breath is interrupted by hitches and stops. He makes an attempt to normalize his Standard. "That's not what I meant," he says. There is no hint of anger or sarcasm in his voice. The lack puts the First Officer off-balance. "We need to talk about what happened between _us_ while we were on that planet.

"Jim wanted to be the one, but I pulled rank 'cause he's not exactly a diplomat. I'm here as CMO, but I'm also here as a man trying to keep another man from ruining a good thing."

Thoughts of Jim Kirk intermingled with the usually-acerbic doctor's self-assessment keep Spock from reminding the man that he is a Vulcan.

The young captain has settled into command with an ease Spock had not expected. He still pushes the limits of regulations, often ignoring them altogether, but the crew have come to respect him, and his instincts often prove decidedly accurate. As Nyota has said, "He may be an asshole sometimes, but he's a brilliant tactician and he's learning how to bring people together. Those last two are commendable talents in a captain."

McCoy is, of course, also no diplomat.

"There is little to discuss, Leonard," Spock says, giving up any attempts at misdirection. "We were under Cinzio's influence. Our actions were not our own."

McCoy grimaces and Spock knows this answer was also insufficient. He also knows the doctor acted in innocence on on the planet.

"Then why is there a gorgeous woman walking around looking like someone killed her puppy?" he counters, proving the half-Vulcan's assumption.

.

…_whose hand,_

_Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away_

_Richer than all his tribe._

.

"My personal relationship with Lt. Uhura is a private matter, Doctor," Spock says carefully. "However, I believe it is acceptable to point out that she continues to perform her duties in an exemplary manner. Were you not privy to the events on Mondovi VII, undoubtedly you would be unaware of any alteration of her demeanor."

The doctor does not agree with this assessment.

"One of my specialties was in psychology," he spits. "Comes in handy on these tin cans. I'm also a man who lost his woman. I know what to look for and I know what the hell I'm talkin' about.

"When a woman wants you for who you are, instead of spending her every waking moment trying to make you into something that suits her more than you, it gets to be like the sun is shining just for you." His voice grows far softer than is customary. "And when she's gone, it's like the sun's gone out."

The scientist wants to explore what it is about this man — whose liberal interpretation of "First, do no harm" should be an anathema to his Vulcan sensibilities — that continues to draw him in. He cannot explain why the doctor's disappointment, the sudden sagging of his shoulders, brings forth a sense of shame his words alone could not elicit.

"Look, Spock, I'm just tryin' to say: you'd better get your green-blooded ass back in orbit before your star goes nova."

Spock simply stares at him, unsure of what kind of response, if any, is required of him. When McCoy leaves, two point four minutes later, the half-Vulcan still has not spoken.

.

.

Standing just outside Nyota Uhura's quarters, Spock reflects on the nature of love, the heart and Ib.

.

_…whose subdued eyes,_

_Albeit unused to the melting mood,_

_Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees_

_Their medicinal gum._

.

Nyota Uhura loves him with all of her heart, and when he is parted from her, he is shrouded in a metaphorical darkness.

Her door hisses open. She says nothing as she pulls him inside and into her light.

* * *

**A/N**: _Othello_ was based on at least one tale from a book called _the Hecatommithi_, written by Giovanni Battista Giraldi (also known as Cinzio). It was published in 1565 in Mondovi.


	3. Song

**Song**

Most would have cast James Tiberius Kirk in the role of Michael Cassio without a second thought. Like the Moor's lieutenant, he is handsome and charming. And he has little regard for his female conquests. Given his first meeting with Uhura, and since he and Commander Spock have not completely moved beyond the enmity that marked the beginning of their acquaintance, it would not be difficult to accept the captain as a man who might pursue another's mate.

And yet, Kirk understands why the being from Mondovi VII did not make that choice. In a matter of hours, Cinzio was able to unearth the secret Jim believes he has kept hidden from everyone who knows him best.

He has spent months watching an unlikely friendship develop between two of his senior officers. One he has considered his best friend since a day in an Iowan shipyard, on a shuttle bound for San Francisco. The other, he has since learned, would have become like a brother to him if Nero had never shattered their universe in his search for vengeance.

Although he knows it makes no sense to hold on to a past that is not truly his, he feels usurped, excluded… superfluous. The space that Spock and Bones have come to fill for each other is the one that Jim Kirk filled in another existence.

.

.

If anyone had said ten years ago that his one of closest friends would be a man, six years his junior, whose bold and reckless disposition belies the powerful intellect that allowed him to help save the world, Bones would said they were about as sharp as a marble.

But Jim Kirk has proven himself to also be caring and fiercely loyal. The captain possesses a strong, though somewhat skewed, sense of justice that the doctor cannot help but admire. Though there have been times when he's disagreed with Jim's execution, he has not yet had occasion to question his intentions. Lately, however, he wonders if his friend sees the same when he looks into a mirror.

He would have scoffed to hear that the other most important person in his day-to-day life would be someone whose stoic façade concealed a capacity for sentiment so deep he would suspect it to be unfathomable to people with red blood. At times Bones fears that only someone with the green variety could feel Spock's demons.

Except he knows at least one human woman has managed to unravel the mystery. But this latest tangle has proven challenging even to her delicate and deft hands.

* * *

A month ago, his quarters wouldn't have felt so vast. His informal "open door policy" ensured the empty spaces were filled by a near-constant stream of visitors seeking direction, mediation or a willing ear. Others had brought gossip or simple companionship.

One month ago, members of his senior staff and the Alpha-shift bridge crew still crowded around the table in the corner on evenings preceding a break period. The lot of them still took bets on how long it would take Chekov to realize the time noted on his invitation was (_again_) an hour or two hours later than the actual start of poker night. Kirk still rolled his eyes whenever Bones grumbled that the officers' mess was a more comfortable venue and pretended not to bristle at Spock's concurrence that a public space would, indeed, be a more logical choice. Scotty still produced samples of real alcohol and Uhura still managed to walk away with most of the pot at the end of the night.

Now, he can't look at his chief communications officer without seeing a phantom of Spock's hand around her throat. His mind still conjures up images of Spock's rage, of Len's bloodied face.

Since his return from Mondovi VII, his chime rarely sounds. Official business is left to his office or to the bridge. If anyone still plays good-natured pranks on junior officers, they don't tell him about it.

In spite of his ongoing troubles with Spock and Bones and Uhura, he has long prided himself on his ability to talk himself into, or out of, any number of situations. Still, he had no idea how to bridge the growing gap between him and the rest of his crew.

.

.

The aftermath of the mission has been hard on the captain. That shouldn't be surprising, but it is.

McCoy expected Spock's withdrawal and made sure he gathered an appropriate arsenal for combating it before confronting the Vulcan. He's unsure how to approach Jim. In a similar situation he might have administered a slap on the head and prescribed a follow-up dose of "get over yourself" but that might do more harm than good this time.

In the week that has gone by since he barged into Spock's quarters, Bones has watched the Enterprise's first officer venture out of his solitude. They have shared three meals since that night. Uhura joined them for the second one. It wasn't until halfway through the third that he noticed Jim staring from across the officers' mess.

* * *

He had expected the visit to come sooner than this. From the moment the doctor caught him watching them in the mess, he'd known it would come. As surly as he pretends to be most of the time, Leonard McCoy can't _not_ try to put people back together. Jim knows he isn't an exception to this constant and always tries to be prepared.

But he wasn't expecting Bones to bring back-up, so he isn't quick enough to hide his disquiet when Spock and Uhura step into his quarters behind the doctor.

He has no ready quips and no way to feign good humor when they sit down to talk about guilt and forgiveness. And when Uhura eventually stands up and walks across the room to kiss his cheek before leaving, he can't find the will to stop Bones from talking about friendship and jealousy and the superior stability of a three-legged stool.

* * *

Uhura stands at Spock's shoulder as he tunes his ka'athyra. A curtain of dark hair, unrestrained by her usual combs or elastics, hides her face as she leans down and whispers in the Vulcan's ear. But Jim has a clear view of his first officer's hand when it briefly moves from the strings to stroke her fingers.

The captain can't be sure, but he also thinks he might have seen a smile flash across Spock's face. By the time Uhura has straightened and tucked errant locks behind each ear, both officers look coolly expressionless, composed, ready to give this gift to their friends.

Jim's eyes slide over to Bones and he notes that his friend wears a broad grin. As if sensing the scrutiny, the doctor turns and winks before facing the performers again.

"Get on with it, you oversized pixie! You plan on making us wait all night to hear that pretty lady's exquisite voice?"

Spock glances up but doesn't respond to the good-natured jibe. Instead, he turns questioning eyes to the woman at his side. She lays a hand on his shoulder and his fingers find the first notes of their song.

* * *

Disclaimer: The following author's note is out of the norm for me. It's totally an over-explainer. Reviews for prior chapters, however, suggest it might be necessary.

**A/N**: In spite of Gene Roddenberry's good intentions, TOS-era Star Trek took place in a man's world. Countless articles and discussions claim that the Roddenberry wanted to depict a society that was classless, one where neither race nor gender mattered to humans. That idea got nipped in the bud along with the first pilot, and race- and gender-equality went the way of Number One.

Similarly, the women in Shakespeare often got a raw deal. Yes, as in Star Trek there were a few (sort of) exceptions to this rule, but for the most part, choosing to be born female in the Bard's worlds was unwise.

Other things to consider:

Spock parallels Othello quite nicely. While the original Cinzio didn't harp on his Moor's "otherness" Shakespeare certainly did. And Spock is the ultimate "other" from a human standpoint.

It also wasn't much of a stretch for me to believe that a member of a society that retained the ka-li-fee from their war-like ancient past would try to kill while in a passion. Witness Spock's attempt on Kirk's life. And while _that_ particular smack down was inspired by filial love, I am loathe to think that romantic love would be any less of an incentive. The difference in this fic is that Spock's anger, through Cinzio's influence, was turned on Uhura.

Many of us left the 2009 movie hoping that Spock and Kirk would become best buds, bros, etc somewhere off-camera, but a couple of things stuck in my mind.

1. It was Kirk, not Bones, who first called Spock a "pointy-eared bastard" this go round. Bones even claimed to _like_ Spock at that moment.

2. Spock's got Uhura in this universe. And whether she's the cause or not, he's leaps and bounds ahead of TOS!Spock in accepting his dual nature.


End file.
